High Stakes
by Crystal7
Summary: He was a king, she was gypsy. He was a captive of her people. Their love was forbidden. A Wendell and character of my own imagination romance story.


**High Stakes**

Synopsis: He was a king, she was gypsy. He was a captive of her people. Their love was forbidden. A Wendell and character of my own imagination romance story.

Wendell stared out the window of his hunting lodge. He loved staying in the Disenchanted Forest. He had spoken to some of his advisors about changing the name of the forest. With the huntsman dead it really didn't seem like the appropriate name. They had taken it under advisement.

Wendell stretched out his legs and enjoyed the afternoon sun. With no one around for miles he had dismissed nearly all of his bodyguards. He had no desire for them to be around, making commotion and ruining his peace. He had once complained to Tony about the sufferings of royalty and although he had learned real humility in the past year, it still felt like suffering when he had guards nipping at his heals.

With his evil step-mother dead, Wolf and Virginia back in the Tenth Kingdom, and Tony enjoying his new position on Wendell's counsel, he actually found himself longing for friends. Growing up he had never had real friends but Tony, Virginia, and even Wolf were never far from his thoughts.

Wendell stared, almost dreaming, out the window into the rustling trees. His advisors were suggesting a quick marriage to a noble woman to secure the newfound peace. Wendell, who was just becoming accustomed to his life, had no desire to marry anytime soon. His advisors, however, were most persistent.

Wendell leaned his head back against the wall and just as he did an arrow came splitting through the glass. The glass shattered around him, as Wendell threw himself onto the floor. Wendell cursed and crawled through the shards of glass over to the one corner of his room, where his sword and bow and arrows were. He was just about to reach for his bow and one of the arrows when there was a swift kick in his head.

Wendell groaned, turned over, and barely had time to catch a look at the brute before passing out.

When his eyes opened again all he saw were walls of wood. "What the-" Wendell managed to get out before being forced to stop. His head ached from the kick he had received. He gave a low groan and tried to move, only finding he couldn't. He was bound by ropes to a pole. Another he was sitting, his hands were roped behind him and legs bound together in front of him.

It was the first time in his life Wendell had seriously regretted one of his decisions. He never should have dismissed the majority of his bodyguards. If he got out of this alive, Wendell knew he would never hear the end of it.

The door to his imprisonment opened and in game a tall, almost regal looking old woman. "Who are you?" Wendell demanded, "What do you want?"

She stood before him and Wendell could see just how bright her blue eyes were, how her white hair looked almost queenly, and although her hands were slightly deformed and her face wrinkled, he could see she was a woman to respect. "I am Grendela," she said, her voice deep, but not in any sort of manly way, "Queen of the Gypsies."

"You mean your gypsies," Wendell said, "There are hundreds of tribes throughout the nine kingdoms." Wendell wanted to kick himself for that last comment. Although he was angry, he needed to learn when it was proper to speak up and when it wasn't. That last moment was not proper, he'd probably recieve a horrible beating for that comment and for his tone of voice.

She bent down and examined him, "Correct. However, I am most feared and respected among the tribes. No one, no matter who they are, challenges me." She spit out those last words with an emphasis that nearly made Wendell shudder.

Wendell had a strong desire to repeat his last question but decided it was best to keep his desires at bay. He would get the information he needed soon enough. She gypsy queen looked over his head wound and then knocked his head back against the wooden pole. Wendell's body reverberated from the pain. "He is ready for you now," he heard the gypsy queen say as she left the room.

Wendell watched as two large gypsy men entered the room. Wendell uttered a silent prayer under his breath for his survival. He knew he would survive. The gypsies either needed or wanted him for something. They weren't about to kill him simply to kill him. They had a plan for him. Wendell's only fear was what their demands would be.

Wendell braced himself, by tightening his muscles, as the first blow was given. They hit, punched, and kicked him everywhere. His face and his torso were their favorite targets. Although it took all the strength he had not pass out from the pain he willed himself awake, conscious. He wanted to make sure he would remember each and every blow.

Although Wendell could not see the sun, his sense of time was excellent. He knew that at least a good two hours had passed. When they were finished, Wendell was amazed he had survived. He had lost at leastthree of histeeth, if not four, his face was cut open and blood was oozing from the cuts onto his clothing. He knew his torso was bruised beyond belief and that they had cracked a few of his ribs.

Wendell felt dizzy from the pain and reminded himself again and again that he could use this as a training exercise. He had been taught, of course, how to withstand pain incase of a situation like this were to ever occur, of course his advisors had always assured him that it never would.

Many more hours passed and Wendell was half asleep when he heard the door creak a little as it was opened. Wendell looked out, the moon was only half there but it filled the room enough for him to see a young maiden enter.

He didn't budge as she approached and when she held something up to his face he involuntary twitched. "It's alright," she whispered in the darkness, "It's a cooling cloth. If these wound are notcleaned out, they could become infected."

"What do you want?" he chocked out, his voice hoarse to his own ears and he could feel the dried blood that was caked on the side of his mouth.

"Please be quiet," she said, "If they hear you we will both be in a great deal of danger."

Despite her warning, Wendell repeated his question. He was not worried about this woman's wrath as he was with the gypsy queen.

"I want to make sure that you stay alive," she whispered, "they gypsy queen may not care, but I do. I have no desire to see you turned over to the hands of your enemies or to be murdered here in the Disenchanted Forest."

"Is that what you want me for," he said, finally hushing his tone, "to sell me to the highest bidder?"

"I don't honestly know what their plans for you are, your highness. All I know is that they are willing to bleed you dry. I am not."

"Why do you even care?" Wendell asked. Even though he could not see her face, only the outline of her features, he knew her to be a gypsy, and to him they were all the same.

"I harbor no ill will towards the Fourth Kingdom, or to you King Wendell," she raised up his shirt and Wendell again flinched, involuntarily.

She clucked her tongue in a disapproving manner, "I would learn to control that if I were you. If you show the gypsies that, they will exploit it." She moved his shirt up and poked at his torso.

"Ow," he said angrily, "you harbor no ill wills?"

He felt her hair tickle his body as she shook her head, "They've broken some bones. I will bring some herbal roots tomorrow to help those heal." She put his shirt back and said in a quiet tone, "you must tell no one I was here. They must not know you are being cared for."

Wendell asked, "Why?" but the silence he heard told her that she had disappeared out the door, so quietly that he hadn't felt or heard her do so.

Wendell slept a dreamless sleep and was awoken the next morning by a quick smack across the face. He opened his eyes and the face of the gypsy queen loomed before him. She had opened one of the windows of his hole and the sunlight filtered through. "Now what," Wendell snapped.

She stood up, placed her hands on her hips, and looked down at him, "So demanding, always so demanding. May I remind you, King Wendell that I am in charge here and you are no one in these lands."

Wendell wanted to comment on the fact that the Disenchanted Forest was part of the Fourth Kingdom, part of his lands, and while she was here she was under his rule. He knew it would do him little good, for while she was technically one of his subjects she wouldn't listen to him anyway.

"We have no use for you, your highness, and I wouldn't have captured you if the promised reward was not so great."

"Promised reward?" he asked.

"We have been offered, by King Bluebell, a personal pardon in these lands if we deliver you to him."

King Bluebell, Wendell thought. The name did not ring a bell and it was several moments before Wendell remembered the young troll king. His older brother had just died in some ridiculous trollceremonyand so the two remaining children of Relish the Troll King ruled his kingdom.

"Of course, we also bartered for gold and many gems of the like," the gypsy queen said, breaking his thought process, "trolls have no use for them of course. They care only for shoes and leather."

Wendell shut his eyes to keep his anger from showing through. This wasn't political in anyway, it was a personal revenge. Tony had suggested they let the trolls go out of pity and Wendell had agreed. He had had no idea that those trolls could hold such independent and clever thoughts.

"Is that where we are to be headed then?" Wendell asked, "To the troll kingdom?"

The gypsy queen was looking out the window, "Yes. The trolls, despite the power they wield, refuse to step foot into the Fourth Kingdom, until you are safe within their lands. We will be leaving this evening." She turned and headed for the door.

Wendell knew better than to ask, but the curiosity was going to get the best of him one way or another, "Why did you tell me this?"

The gypsy queen, half out the door, seemed sad for a moment as she answered, "I believe everyone should know of their fate before it falls upon them." She left with a great deal of haste.

The gypsy queen head down the steps of the cart that they kept King Wendell in. "Have you seen my grandchild?" she asked one of the nearby men. He nodded and pointed over to where the gypsy princess was weaving. She headed over there and roughly grabbed the girl's arm, "You were there last night, weren't you." She hissed in anger, "you disobeyed my orders!"

The girl ripped her arm free of her grandmother's, "Don't you dare talk to me that way!" she yelled. She gave a quick pause and lowered her voice. She really didn't need on the wrong end of her grandmother's affections, "forgive me Grandmother, but you cannot offer the king such ill will. His wounds surely would have become infected by nightfall and what then? You unleash those silly brutes on him, with no instruction and they just have at him? You cannot harm him so. Delivering him to the trolls in a thousand pieces wasn't part of the deal."

The old woman watched her granddaughter cautiously and with interest. She patted the young girl's arm, "You are right of course. I apologize," she sighed, "However I will not deliver him to the trolls untouched."

"Allow me to accompany him on the journey, Grandmother. I can clean his cuts, wounds, and broken bones like no other. He will not be untouched but he won't be dying either. King Bluebell wants him harmed, but not dead."

"You will make a great queen someday," Grendela Queen of the Gypsies said.

The girl gave a customary nod, "I am glad that you believe in me."

"Be ready by nightfall," the old woman instructed and left the young girl to ponder her own thoughts.

The young maiden was ready by nightfall just as her grandmother had instructed. She was armed with roots, bandages, plenty of food, water, and many healing potions. Her grandmother handed her several candles and instructed to keep the cart lit at all times and to trust nothing the king would say to her.

When she entered the cart, the king was sleeping and she went straight to the window and latched it up tight. "They must not see you, right?" he said, his voice weary.

The girl busied herself by fastening the candles in the corner of the cart. It gave a jerk and she struggled to keep her balance as she lit the first candle, "I thought you were sleeping."

"I am," he muttered and passed back out. She looked at him. He had only been half awake. No doubt when he awoke he would not even remember what had just transpired. She set to work setting up the cart for the long journey ahead.

Wendell's eyelids felt heavy when he next tried to open them. When he finally had the strength to open them completely he found his prison lit with nearly two dozen candles, all fastened in iron holders to the wall, yet far enough away where it would not set the cart on fire.

He saw a young girl separating food rations into two piles. From the shape of her body he could tell she was the same young girl from the night before. He admired her. For a gypsy she was very beautiful. Her hair was long, curly, silky, and a deep set of hazel. He could only see the skin on her arms, which normally may have been the same as his, but she had been touched by the sun too long, it was a dark and rich tan color.

"I thought you weren't coming back," he crocked out.

She turned and Wendell could see he had startled her. "Our long journey has begun and the queen wishes me to make sure that you are well taken care of. We do not wish you dead."

"No, just slightly injured," Wendell bit back.

Her pale blue eyes were suddenly bright with mischief, "If you ever made a comment like that to our queen she'd have injured you further."

"You are her granddaughter are you not?" Wendell asked, knowing full well that this girl would not hurt him.

She didn't turn to face as him as she went back to her work, "How'd you know?"

"I could see it around the eyes," he said.

She didn't answer but when she turned, Wendell could she that she held several pieces of fabric and potion bottles. She came closer to help and knelt down, "this will sting for a little bit but in the end it'll make you feel much better.

Wendell didn't answer and she was right, it did sting. They were silent for several minutes while she cleaned his face wounds. As she bandaged them up she said, "My mother was born in this gypsy clan, the illegitimate daughter of a nobleman. My grandmother, the queen of the gypsies, sent her away to live with a farm family. My grandmother didn't want her exposed to this kind of life.

"My mother," Wendell flinched as she put a bandage over the cut on his right cheek. She finished up the bandage and continued, "My mother married a farm boy within the village and not long after I was born," she paused, "she died. My father was very sad and sent to me to his sister to live. She was a healer."

"That's where you leaned this craft," Wendell said as she finished bandaging up the rest of his face.

She nodded, and then said, "I'm going to have to remove your shirt to fully heal those broken ribs," she moved to untie his ropes and then leaned back and looked at him, "you won't try anything will you?"

"And where exactly would I go?" Wendell asked, with his usual sarcasm.

She smiled, "That's what I thought." She quickly untied his ropes and Wendell grunted as she helped him remove his shirt. Her breath quickened and Wendell allowed a touch of smile to come to his face. As soon as the shirt was crumpled on the floor, she went to retie his ropes. Instead she ran her fingers over the rope burns. Wendell shuddered at her touch. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't apologize," Wendell said. She leaned back and looked at him, "If not for you, I'd already be half dead."

She blushed a little in her cheeks and then reached back and tied his hands back together behind the pole. She then set herself back to work by caring for his broken ribs, "They've gone too far this time."

"Why do you do this?" Wendell asked.

"Do what?"

"Live among the gypsies."

The girl gave him a sad look, "My aunt died a few years ago. My father had been dead for many morebefore that. My grandmother sensed this and came for me. She didn't want me passed from family to family until I was old enough to be properly married."

Wendell gave a slight pause and then said, "You know who I am but I don't know who you are."

"My name is Coletta," she then busied herself with applying some sort of sweet smelling lotion to his torso.

Wendell's heart quickened in pace as her hands went first across and then up and down his torso. Coletta's hand rested for a moment over his heart. She looked at Wendell and for a moment they stared at each other. Then both remembering their situation and their place, Wendell turned away and Coletta busied herself in her work.

The day and night came and went and with each passing mile Wendell grew stronger. Coletta allowed him freedom from the ropes only long enough to eat, "You don't distrust me like the others do," he observed two days into their journey.

"I have no reason to," Coletta said, "I grew up in the Fourth Kingdom. I had a good life."

"Then why do you do this?"

Coletta shrugged and chewed on one of the carrots. Between bites she said, "I suppose because it is my grandmother who wishes it. She has great plans for me. She wishes to me to be queen of the gypsies once she passes. I however, have no desire to become queen."

Wendell slowly chewed on a bit of meat and thought for a moment, "You do not enjoy the life of a gypsy, then?"

She shook her head and gulped down some water, "I have no use for it. I'd rather be a healer, like my aunt was."

"Why don't you leave then?"

She gave a small laugh and then her almost amused face dropped into sadness, "It would kill my grandmother. Even though I hold little respect for the life they lead here, I do love her. I could never cause her such pain as that."

"What about your own pain?"

She shrugged, "In time I'm sure I can turn things around."

It was Wendell's turn to laugh, "I've found that more often than not you have let things run its course. The gypsies are happy with the lives they lead here. Nothing is going to change that."

Coletta shrugged, "Doesn't mean I'm not going to try."

"You're pretty brave to think that you can change all of this," Wendell commented.

"Bravery has nothing to do with it."

Wendell shrugged and finished his meal. He set his plate aside and rubbed the rope burns on his hands. If the cart hadn't been doing so much jerking over the past two days they wouldn't have burned so much. Coletta set down her plate and came over to him. "Let me help you."

Wendell allowed her to rub lotion over the wounds and although they stung he knew that they would heal with time. If he got to live that long, that is. She shook her head in dismay. The wounds on his wrist stung with pain but he knew as well as she did they would never heal if she kept tying rope back around them.

Slowly, as though it nearly pained her to do so, she tied his hands back together behind the pole, "I am sorry."

"Not as sorry as I am," Wendell replied.

They traveled for two more days with the same routine. They ate in near silence, small bits of inconsequential conversation sneaking in here and there. She bandaged his wounds and healed him as best she could. Finally on sixth day of their journey, Wendell decided he had had enough of the silence.

"Tell me about yourself," he requested.

"What?" she asked, half surprised and half humored.

"We've been traveling in silence for six days," he complained, "A little bit of conversation can't hurt."

"We've conversed," she argued.

"Three words every five hours doesn't count as conversing," Wendell argued back.

Coletta gave him a small smile and then sat down across from him. She crossed her legs and leaned her head back against the wood wall, "Alright, what do you want to know?"

"It's a long journey," Wendell said, "How about we start from the beginning?"

She laughed again and Wendell was impressed by the sound of it. She was completely different from the rest of the gypsies. Not being raised with their clan had something to do with it certainly. "Well I already told you about my mother, grandmother, father, and my aunt."

"I didn't ask about them," Wendell said, "I asked about you."

"Me," Coletta sighed, "That's not a happy topic."

"Neither am I," Wendell responded.

"You," Coletta asked, "Besides your evil stepmother, poisoned parents, and being turned into a dog, how bad could your life have been?"

Wendell, who had been leaning forward, leaned back against the pole he had been tied to for the majority of the past six days. His only freedom from it had been the times when Coletta allowed him food, when she was healing him, and when the whole gypsy parade had stopped for a rest. He rubbed his arms up and down the back side of the pole, scrapping the ropes. "Well," he started, "Until I was turned into a dog, I never really appreciated the wonders of life."

Coletta's mouth formed into an expression that Wendell could only interpret as amused, "Well I never fully appreciated the art of hunting."

It was Wendell's turn to be amused, "I never fully appreciated the art of healing until three days ago."

Coletta's smile widened, "I never fully appreciated how difficult it was to prepare a meal until last year."

Wendell was surprised by how easy the conversation was starting to flow. "Favorite color," Wendell asked.

"Green," was Coletta's response, "Your favorite color?"

"Blue," Wendell responded.

Coletta let loose a small giggle, "Even though the 'official' color of the Fourth Kingdom is green?"

"Even though," Wendell said as his body bouncing up as the cart hit a bump in the road.

"Favorite Food," Coletta challenged.

"Cocoa and a cheese sandwich," Wendell said and was humored at the sight of her smile.

"Mine is apple cider and bacon sandwiches."

"For someone who doesn't fully appreciate the art of hunting you love your meat."

"I don't hunt, but I don't mind eating what others have hunted," was her response. Wendell looked down, already short of questions, luckily Coletta had one for him, "What is your greatest ambition as king?"

"To bring peace between the wolves and the humans," Wendell said, surprised by his own answer.

Coletta nodded, "That's right. Your stepsister is married to a wolf is she not?"

"They love each other," Wendell said, "but I don't believe they are married, just yet. I know they will be, probably shortly."

"You learned a lot as your time as a dog, didn't you?"

"More than you can possibly imagine," Wendell said, "I learned how to respect those who were not as fortunate as myself, I learned that those I had prejudiced so greatly in the past were not so different from myself, but most importantly I learned compassion."

Coletta leaned over and untied his ropes. He gave her a funny look and she responded, "Lunch."

He gave a nod and they slipped back into their usual pattern of silent eating habits. It was silent within the cart for nearly an hour before Coletta brought out the bandages and potions again. She was touching up some of the cuts on his face, "These wounds are healing nicely."

Wendell reached up and caught one of her hands in his own. They were soft and it was hard to believe that she worked with them everyday. "Thank you."

Wendell could see Coletta's breath catch in her throat, "You're welcome."

Wendell brought Coletta's hand down and still clutching it, he rested it on his stomach. "Why do you do this? I know you harbor no ill will towards the Fourth Kingdom and even though you weren't raised with them, you are a gypsy."

Coletta, who had been bending down, sat down next to him, so that they were facing each other, her hand still clutched in Wendell's. "Gypsy or no gypsy, it isn't fair to kill an innocent man."

"There are those who would argue that I am not innocent."

Coletta, with her free hand, reached across his face and placed it on his cheek, "You're not guilty in my eyes."

Awkward silence filled the cart for the rest of the afternoon. They stopped for their customary evening stop. Wendell looked out the door as Coletta left to join the other gypsies. Wendell's eyes narrowed. They were almost out of the Disenchanted Forest. The closer they got to the Third Kingdom, the worse his situation was going to get. Wendell gave a silent prayer for his bodyguards to find him quickly.

Coletta came in not long after she had left and picked up some of the empty potion bottles. She looked at him and said, "We need fresh supplies." She left quickly and returned to the camp of the gypsies.

"How is he coming along," her grandmother asked.

"Good. His wounds are healing quickly."

"Good," she said and over Coletta's shoulder she gave a nod.

Coletta turned and saw two of the brute gypsies heading into King Wendell's cart. "NO!" She cried out and made a move to run but Grendela grabbed her arm, "You know what is at stake," she threatened.

"He was healing nicely," Coletta's choked out, "You can't do this! He hasn't done anything wrong."

"That doesn't matter," Grendela sneered. She pulled at Coletta's arm, yanking her granddaughter closer, "Grandchild or no grandchild I will be forced to punish you if you interfere in the survival of this clan."

Coletta ripped her arm out of her grandmother's grasp, "I'd just as soon have died with my mother than help in the survival of this clan."

Grendela raised her hand to slap her granddaughter and then faltered. She couldn't do it and they both knew it. Grendela had never risen at hand to any child, and certainly wouldn't do it to her own flesh and blood. "Never say that again or I will be forced to cast you out."

Coletta watched as Grendela turned and left her to take care of business. She turned towards the cart. She flinched at the sounds coming from it. She turned away and walked towards one of the tents that had been set up.

"Come to try your luck?" Cersica, one of the gypsies most prized seers asked.

Coletta looked around, her grandmother would not approve and even though Coletta knew she had the gift of sight even though she had never used it willingly. "No," she said, staring at Cersica, "You know how I feel about those things." She turned away and headed into the trees.

Coletta set to work looking for roots, leaves, and berries she would need to awaken the vision within her. It only took her a little over an hour. She found a small pond nearby where she would conduct her magic in private.

Coletta said the sacred words under her breath and threw in the berries and leaves. They sank to the bottom of the pond and the water suddenly clouded up and turned red. Using the Gonala root she waved it over the water. What she saw made her breath quicken.

She saw three children, two girls and a boy. Wendell was playing with them. All four were laughing and were really happy. "Come here Mommy!" One of the little girls called. Coletta's eyes narrowed. Was she the mother? She was seeing everything from the mother's perspective.

In the vision Coletta reached down and picked up the girl, making a smacking noise as she kissed the pudgy cheek. Wendell leaned forward and Coletta kissed him. It was deep and passionate.

The water became murky and the vision changed. She saw a room full of nobles and other dignitaries. It was a ceremony of some type. A peace treaty had just been signed. Wendell had achieved his goal of creating peace between the wolves and humans, in all the nine kingdoms.

The water clouded with red smoke and the vision again changed. Coletta looked away and dropped the Gonala root into the water, stopping the vision. She didn't want to know anymore. She had seen enough.

Coletta headed back towards the camp and found her grandmother's tent. She crawled in and silently fell asleep under the animal skins. It was a restless sleep, but it was one that was welcome all the same.

Coletta was awakened the next morning by her grandmother and she headed straight for the cart. When she entered it was pitch dark inside. She quickly relit the candles and as she did the cart began moving. They were on the move again.

When the cart was fully lit she finally forced herself to look at Wendell. His face was bruised and bloodied. His left eye was swollen shut. Tears came to Coletta's eyes and she knelt down. She untied the ropes but he made no motion to do anything. He was out cold.

Coletta collected several of the animal skins and laid them out on the ground. She pulled Wendell onto the skins and slowly removed his shirt, which was drenched in the blood that had fallen from his mouth and his nose. She tossed it in the far corner. It was no good anymore.

She pulled out a piece of cloth and wetted it was water. She wiped away the blood from Wendell's face and chest. She quickly dried his body and examined the rest of him. The swelling on his face would go down by the time they reached the third kingdom, but it would still be clear that he had been beaten. The ribs that had only just healed yesterday were busted again.

She put a fluffed up animal skin under his head. She wrapped up his torso in cloth. He made a mumble under his breath but Coletta turned away and slowly fixed herself breakfast. Wendell wouldn't come around for several hours at least.

Several hours didpass before Wendellopened his eyes. He was surprised when he found himself lying down. His wrists and torso were bandaged. He looked up and they were still traveling in the cart. He looked over to his right and saw Coletta, resting.

She must have felt his stare on him because she opened his eyes to look at him, "You'll heal well enough in a few days time."

"Just in time to be passed off to the troll king," he said with scorn.

Coletta crawled over to him and sat down. She brushed some of the hair that had stuck to his forehead back, "We're not making anymore stops until we reach the Third Kingdom."

Wendell gave a groan, "Just wonderful, so not everyone gets a happy ever after."

Coletta let her hands rest in her lap, "You will," she said, thinking of her vision, "You'll be a great king."

"How do you know this?" Wendell asked.

Coletta shrugged and turned away from him, "I had a vision." Wendell sat up but quickly thought better of it, it hurt too much. Coletta gave him a disappointed look, "Stay still. They've broken your ribs again. Give thema few days to heal."

Wendell reached over and grabbed her hand again. He squeezed it, "Thank you again."

Coletta, thinking about her vision, had the impulse to lean down and kiss him, but thought better of it. She didn't even know if that woman in the vision was her. Odds were, it wasn't.

Wendell placed her hand, locked in his, on his chest, "Help me sit up."

"You really shouldn't-"

"I don't care," Wendell said, "I want to sit up."

Coletta gave him a look of near disdain and piled up some of the animal skins against the wall. She helped Wendell lean himself up against he wall and put an animal skin over across his lap, "We're entering the colder part of the forest. You'll need these."

Coletta dabbed some cloth into water and reached up to clean some blood off his forehead, "This cut won't stay closed," she muttered. Wendell grabbed her hand again. "You're fond of holding my hand," she joked.

Wendell ignored her joke and reached up and placed a hand on her cheek. Impulse grabbed him and he brought her face close to his. Their lips brushed against each other and Coletta detangled her hand from Wendell's and lightly let her hands fall to his chest. She didn't want to hurt him anymore than he had already been hurt.

Wendell put both is hands on her face. Their lips brushed each other again and then Wendell brought her face closer, smothering her lips with his. Wendell felt her heart quicken in pace just as his did. He wasn't quiet sure what had made him want to kiss her but now he knew what it was, it was desire. It was compassion. She had shown him compassion when he had needed it the most.

The kiss deepened and so did Wendell's emotions. Coletta pulled back, "No. Don't do this."

Wendell pulled back and let his hands drop on top of Coletta's, which were still resting on his chest. "I'm sorry."

Coletta and Wendell both worked to catch their breath as Coletta fixed a late lunch. They ate in silence; silence seemed to be their favorite activity. Coletta cleaned up quietly and then sat down to rub some lotions under Wendell's eye, "It'll help with the swelling."

Wendell nodded and allowed her to clean the wound. They said little over the next two days. Knowing their journey was soon to be at an end Wendell reached over and grabbed Coletta's hand. She gave him a funny look. "I'm fond of holding your hand."

Coletta gave him a sad smile and sat down next to him, their fingers intertwined. "We'll be reaching the third kingdom in a few days time."

Wendell leaned over and kissed Coletta's cheek, "Thank you," he said, "I owe my survival of this journey to you."

Coletta looked at him, "You'll be a great king, someday."

Wendell opened his mouth to say something when the cart came to a jerking stop. Coletta stood up suddenly and heard the bell. "What is that?" Wendell asked.

Coletta threw up her arms to balance herself as the cart jerked again. "We're under attack," she said.

Wendell gave a silent prayer. Hopefully it was his bodyguards. Coletta threw open the door and stuck her head out. She saw fourth kingdom soldiers everywhere.

Despite how weak he was Wendell stood up and came up behind Coletta, "My soldiers," he whispered, "Coletta, get back inside. You won't be hurt if they see me."

No sooner had he finished uttering those words than a solider and a horse was thrown into the cart, knocking Coletta and Wendell from it. Coletta pushed herself up and helped Wendell to his feet. There was rush of gypsies to escape from soldiers and Wendell found himself swept up with the crowd.

Wendell turned and things almost seemed to move in slow motion. He saw the arrow pierce Coletta's chest. Wendell's own chest nearly exploded as he started forward. His body numb, his thoughts filled with nothing but getting to her. His own safety did not matter at this time. It took Wendell an eternity to reach her and by the time he had, her body had already hit the ground, her arms flailing behind her.

He fell to ground a few feet from her and slid through the mud. Pain exploded inside of his body from his broken ribs but he ignored it, "Coletta!"

"Wendell," her voice was soft and blood was pouring from the corner of her mouth, "go," her voice was fierce with passion, "go. If you die here today, my death means nothing."

"I'm not leaving you," he said, his passion just as fierce. He lifted her frail form into his arms and began to cry, "Please don't leave me."

Coletta's eyes began to fill with tears, "I am not afraid to die," she whispered. She began coughing hard. Wendell turned her over on her side and she coughed up blood. He turned her back around and she gave him a sad smile. With a struggled breath she made a gurgling sound, spit up some more blood, and then she was gone.

"No!" Wendell's voice echoed through the trees, drawing unneeded attention to himself.

Wendell suddenly felt a body thrown on top of himself and heard an arrow hiss past his head, "Are you crazy!" Wolf yelled, "You're going to die if you keep sitting here. Let's go!"

Wendell's thoughts were a buzz of emotion and Wolf half guided, half dragged him through the forest.

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Wendell stared at the tombstone and simply bore Coletta's name. He heard footsteps in the grass behind him but he did not turn around to look. "Quite a fancy funeral for a simple gypsy," a woman's voice said.

Wendell still didn't turn to face her, "She was more than just a gypsy."

Virginia came around and threaded her arm through Wendell's, "You loved her," Virginia leaned her head against Wendell's shoulder.

Wendell leaned his head against her head, grateful that she was shorter than him, "I spent so little time with her and the time we did spend together was practically in silence." He paused, "but yes, I did love her."

Virginia allowed her hand to move from his arm into his, "You need to tell her that."

Wendell closed his eyes in despair, "I don't know how."

Virginia turned to face him and Wendell was shocked at how much her pregnancy had grown, "Yes you do."

Wendell studied her for a moment, "I am sorry that you and Wolf had to come all the way from the Tenth Kingdom to save me."

Virginia removed her hand from his and patted his arm, "I'm not and neither is Wolf," with those final words Virginia left him, still staring at Coletta's grave.

Wendell fell to his knees in the grass, "I am so sorry. I should have saved you," his head fell into the grass and the tears welled in his eyes.

"There was nothing you could have done," whispered a female voice from behind him.

He turned, both stunned and afraid towards the voice. His mouth opened slightly at the shock of the sight that stood before him. "Coletta," he whispered, it was both a question and a statement.

She smiled at him, "Hello, Wendell."

He stared at her, "I-"

"Ssh," she said, coming forward and placing a finger on his lips, "It's alright."

He closed his eyes at her touch, enjoyed the feel of her flesh against his, "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not," she replied. Wendell opened her eyes to look at her. "You're going to be a great king," she continued, "Our story, it was meant to end this way."

"But why?" was Wendell's question. Why did their story have to end this way? It had ended before it had every truly begun.

"Because you are ruler of the Fourth Kingdom," she replied, "You have a great destiny to fulfill," she paused for an instant and then said, "What did you expect? We'd get married, have a dozen kids, and live happily ever after?"

Wendell was stunned at her response, but only for a second. It did make sense, no matter how much it hurt. He wanted to say that it could have been possible but they both knew that it wasn't.

She pressed her lips to his for an instant and well she pulled back she said, "You will live happily ever after."

Wendell looked down and when he looked back up again she was gone. He was still there, kneeling at her tombstone. Had she ever really been there? Wendell ran his fingers over Coletta's name. Probably not, but all the same he felt relieved. Wendell gave the stone a small, sad smile.

He would live happily ever after, with the memory of Coletta forever in his heart.

**THE END**


End file.
